


Jecht Writes Friendfiction

by Enkida



Series: Memento Vivere & Its Bastard Children [3]
Category: Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy X & Final Fantasy X-2, Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: Auron and Rikku are Clueless, Bad Ideas, Braska is Naughty, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Comedy, F/M, Gen, Jecht Is Really Bad At This, Smut, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enkida/pseuds/Enkida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Braska thinks Jecht needs a new hobby, so he gives Jecht a sketchbook.  Unfortunately, this does not quite work out as anyone planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Braska's Terrible Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a crackfic idea I had while writing new chapters for MV. I kept thinking to myself, "Wow, some smut would really fit into the story right here. Too bad I'm pants at writing it, and it would be a bit OOC for the characters to get it on like that."
> 
> Then Jecht popped up with the perfect solution to my smut-writing woes. We'll see if this one gets off the ground...

**Prologue: Braska’s Terrible Idea**

“I can’t believe Lord Braska is willing to put up with you.” Auron scoffed as he retired to his room for the night, slamming the door behind him.

Jecht rubbed the back of his head, wincing. “That guy’s got a stick so far up his ass you can see it comin’ up through his tonsils.”

Braska coughed into his hand. “Well, to be fair, you were the one who suggested he needed to find company with the fairer sex in order to relax. It wasn’t very polite.”

Jecht snorted. “That wasn’t what I said. But it’s true, ain’t it. You see how he’s always lookin’ at Blondie’s ass when they ain’t fightin’.”

Braska steepled his fingers together and remained tactfully silent.

“Fine, take his side, see if I care,” Jecht mumbled, crossing his arms and looking sullen.

“Perhaps you just need to find a different hobby in your free time. One that does not involve needling Auron at every possible instance.”

“A hobby, huh?” Perking up, Jecht leaned forward and tapped his finger on the surface of Braska’s table. “So, got any big ideas?”

“Hmm. Well, seeing that you and Auron managed to destroy my only blitzball in under twenty-four hours together, may I suggest something less active than a sport? Drawing, perhaps. I keep a sketchbook myself, it’s very relaxing.”

“Drawin’... hmm. Maybe you got somethin’ there. Never tried my hand at it, y’know.”

Braska stood up and walked to a drawer by the door of his apartment. “I’ve a spare sketchbook that you can use. And here, some charcoal to start off with.”

He returned to the table and handed Jecht the objects.

“... why’s it bright pink?”

“An aesthetic choice,” Braska said smoothly.

Jecht turned the book over in his hands. “There’s some flowers on here too.” He squinted. “Is that a unicorn?”

“I’ll have you know Ixion is a well-respected aeon within the Church,” Braska huffed.

“Ixi-what? This pink horse with the rainbow hair and them big eyelashes is somethin’ you guys worship in your church?”

Braska dropped his head slightly. “Fine. It was Yuna’s, when she was five. She lost interest in it rather quickly. I recall her claim that ‘ _anything with wings would be better than a dumb horned horse.’_ ”

“Gotta say your lil’ girl has better taste than you,” Jecht agreed, flipping the book open. Picking up a stick of charcoal, he stared at the blank white page, brow furrowing. “Uh… so whadda ya do? How do ya choose what to draw in this thing?”

Braska leaned back thoughtfully. “There is nothing more intimidating than a blank page. The only thing you can truly do is have at it, despite the mistakes that you may make. You’ll never know what you might create if you do not even try.” He hummed. “Perhaps you should stick to what you know. Something from Blitzball?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jecht said impatiently, already drawing the charcoal across the page. He stuck his tongue out as he focused on creating his picture.

Braska reached for his cup of tea and sipped quietly, watching Jecht work.

“There, finished.” Jecht smiled proudly and turned the book around, showing Braska his creation. “Whaddaya think?”

Braska lurched and spit his tea across the room.

“I’m that good?” Jecht turned the book around and raised an eyebrow.

“Put that down before Yuna sees it!” Braska hissed, his hand snaking out and slamming the book closed. “What in Yevon’s name were you thinking, drawing that?”

“What? What’d I do?” Stubbornly, Jecht flipped the book back open and pointed at his drawing. “It’s a Blitzball stadium, see? Here’s the water. And there’s the team, and the goal. This thing right here is me,” he said proudly. “And there’s the other team tryin’ to defend their goal.”

Braska blinked and squinted at the drawing, tilting his head to one side. “I… do not see,” he muttered. “If that,” he pointed, “is you, then why are there lines connecting between each of the… er… players?”

“Oh, I was drawin’ myself doin’ the Mark III. It’s a blitzin’ move, see? First the ball goes here, then it hits this guy, like blam! And then this one, pa-pow! And then it goes up like this and I spin around and kick it, right there, see, and then it fires right into that goal. Score, baby!”

Braska was silent for a long moment. Then, carefully, he pointed at the drawing. “But when you connect the lines like this to show motion, do you not think that you might accidentally create another image? Perhaps one you were not quite intending to make?”

“The hell you talkin’ about,” Jecht grumbled, looking at his picture again.

Braska sighed. “Look at this… arena. And the goal you drew. Do you not think it bears a slight resemblance to… ahh… certain delicate parts of the female anatomy?”

“So I can’t draw circles too well! Big deal! You’re readin’ too much into it there, Braska.”

“What about this then! You drew yourself and the other players as squiggly lines! What part of this looks like a human being?”

Jecht shrugged petulantly. “It’s from high up, alright? Ya don’t need to see all the details.”

“Look at the way you connected the dots! Do you not see what portion of your own body it might be misconstrued as?”

Jecht squinted. “Well,” he hedged. “I guess if you kinda think of it like that… but hey man, I swear that wasn’t what I was aimin’ for. Besides, look at these speed lines I drew right here! They ain’t even connected to that other thing!”

Braska dropped his forehead into his hands. “Jecht. You just drew a crude depiction of a phallus with an exceptionally hairy scrotum ejaculating into a vulva in my daughter’s unicorn sketchbook. I do not think drawing is your forte.”

Sulking, Jecht slammed the book shut and tossed it at Braska. “Fine, you keep it, I’ll get another damn hobby.”

“Oh no,” Braska said mildly, carefully pushing the book with the smiling pink unicorn on it back towards Jecht. “I believe this belongs to you now. Please, keep it with my blessings. Perhaps you can fill it with even more inspiring works from the depths of your imagination. I believe I shall retire for the evening, before you can further persuade me to listen to Auron’s opinions.”

Grabbing the book and glaring at the unicorn, Jecht scowled. “I ain’t totally bad at all this artsy fartsy shit,” he grumbled. “I’ll show Braska I can pull this creative stuff off!” Opening the book, he reassessed his picture. Then he blanched. “Eh… maybe drawin’ ain’t my thing. Damn, once you see it, you can’t unsee it!”

A crafty look came over Jecht’s face. “But… that don’t mean I gotta give up, right? I can still get creative in other ways.” A slow smile spread as he looked at the drawing he’d made. “In fact, this might just be the best idea I ever had. Oh yeah, baby. I _am_ the greatest!”

Picking up the charcoal once more, he stifled a laugh and flipped the page.

 

 


	2. Slammin' in the Slammer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jecht takes his first stab at writing PWP. Braska suffers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I better make something clear for my dear readers before we begin on this misadventure. This work is not a piece of erotica. This is a serious effort to write intentionally bad PWP. Maybe they’ll get good enough to write “not as bad” porn at some point, but if you’re here for "ooh-laa-laas!" you’re probably going to be disappointed. (If you're not disappointed, please sign up to be my co-author, I could use the, ahh, inspiration. Yeah, that's what we'll call it.)

Braska was bothered. It was unusual for something to upset his equilibrium this much, but Jecht’s barely-contained smirks were straining on his nerves. All of the blitzer’s gleeful mirth seemed to be centered around one familiar-looking pink notebook. Considering Jecht’s level of humor, it was a dangerous task he was undertaking.

 _I am a Summoner_ , Braska told himself sternly. _One day, I will face Sin itself. I must be prepared for anything, both physically and mentally. This is merely training._

He picked up the book he had filched from Jecht’s pack as the man slept and cracked it open.

* * *

 

**Slammin’ in the Slammer**

So there they were, stuck together in the smallest jail cell in Bevelle. The Stiff wasn’t too happy about being trapped with the new girl. He’d begged Braska to reconsider his decision, but the man’s mind was made up.

“No, Auron,” Braska said, turning up his nose. “You got to learn some manners. Maybe this girl can teach you something. Stay here until you get an attitude adjustment. Jecht will totally be able to take your place.”

“He’s right. I’m the Greatest!” Jecht cracked his knuckles and gave a warning look to the wimpy guard stationed there. “You’re coming with us, buddy. Let’s give these two kids some time to think about what they really want outta life.” He winked suggestively at Auron and left with the Summer-er, dragging the guard out behind them.

“So,” Auron said to the blonde chick. “What’s your name, sexy?”

“Oh big guy,” she cooed back, licking her lips. “Do we really need to bother with names when there’s another part of you more eager to greet me?” She dropped her eyes to the front of Auron’s pants and winked at the tent forming there. “So they call you the Stiff around these parts?” She swayed over to him aggressively and shoved her tits up against his chest. “Let’s see if you can live up to that nickname, baby.”

Auron groaned lowly and rubbed his rock-hard cock against the chick’s pussy. He thrust a hot, wet tongue into her ear. “You think you can handle this? Cum to papa, sweetheart.”

“Oh god! You’re so huge, stranger. I mean like really, completely, mind-blowingly huge! Fuck me, how am I gonna fit all of that in here?” Despite her protests, the woman was already pushing up her sorry excuse for a skirt and trying to ride him.

“Unn, so it’s true, you did come straight out of Al’s bed,” Auron hissed as he felt her slick pussy wetting the front of his pants with her juices. “I don’t take sloppy seconds, bitch.”

“You’re an asshole,” the woman told him even while she unzipped his pants. “There’s nothing sloppy about me, and I didn’t just roll out of Al’s bed.”

Auron grabbed her by the hips and held her down. “Then why aren’t you wearing any panties?” He dug the tip of his cock into her soaked pussy and swivelled his hips around to make his point.

“Ah! AH! I never wear underwear! Uhh, just do me already!”

Smirking, Auron thrust into her partway, stopping before he could hit her sweet spot. She was still hot and tight and fucking soaked around him, and he dug his fingers into her flesh, fighting to keep from taking her right then.

“So you’re wet just for me, huh?”

“Well, that other hot guy who was in here before got me primed, but - UH!”

Auron sunk into her with a growl, slamming her against the bars of their cell. “I’ll teach you to talk about other men when I’m fucking you. Do you feel this?” He hitched his hips against her and drove his cock back into her moist heat.

The needy moan he pumped out of her made him forget how pissed off he was. Repeating the thrust, he slammed his aching cock back into her and groaned as her pussy squeezed him tightly.

“Cumming already?” he snarled at the woman. She only wrapped her ankles around his waist and tried to stuff him in deeper.

“Ahn! Ahn! I love it - ahn! When you - uh, uhh uhh! - Talk dirty - AH!”

“Really, you slut?” Auron smirked as the woman cried out again and her pussy flooded. “You don’t even know my name.” He snapped his hips back and forth faster and faster, losing his own grip on control. He’d never met a chick so loose and tight all at the same time, and it made his cock want to burst. “But you can just call me Yevon instead.”

* * *

 

Braska shut the book slowly. “What… did I just read?”

Auron, who was passing by, glanced at the Summoner. “As fitting as it is to see Jecht giggling like a schoolgirl into that book, why do you look as though your eyes want to bleed?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing, Auron. Merely a meditation technique I am working on with Jecht. He… still requires more help, I fear.”

“That was your plan? Get him to draw a few pictures before I’m moved to behead him? At least he’ll leave a legacy behind.”

Braska clucked his tongue at Auron. “Go, my friend. Take that good humor elsewhere, this is not a trivial matter.”

Auron shrugged and left him alone, and Braska slowly reopened the book. “As poorly written as this may be, it does have potential,” he murmured. Digging through his pack for a piece of charcoal, he carefully began to edit Jecht’s story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... sorry [ not sorry ]. Leave a review if you're brave enough to see Braska's edits. I won't blame anybody for skipping the kudos though, LOL.


	3. Jailhouse Indiscretions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braska takes his first stab at editing Jecht's story.

**Jailhouse Indiscretions**

Auron slammed his fists against the bars of the cell, anger suffusing his face.  “They dare to try detain me here? Someone shall pay for this,” he swore.   A small noise caused him to turn, facing the predicament he was trying so diligently to ignore.

“... are you going vent your fury against me?” the girl asked, looking up at him between the fringes of her golden hair.

Gritting his teeth, Auron carefully pushed his temper down and turned to face his newest and very much unwilling companion. “Much as I would like to, Al Bhed, I cannot lay the blame for this situation at your feet.”

The girl’s emerald eyes flashed dangerously at him, and Auron cursed to himself when he felt his blood heat. Clearly, she was of the Al Bhed people, his sworn enemy. Yet it was always the forbidden fruit that was the most delectable. Despite the tumultuous feelings churning within himself, he could not deny that those eyes were the crowning accent to a truly lovely face. Not even the desolation of Bevelle’s barren prison cells could mask the girl’s beauty.

Catching himself staring, Auron forced his gaze elsewhere. “You already know my name, Miss. I fear you find me at a disadvantage.”

The girl chewed on her lower lip, unaware of the fetching picture she painted as she lay splayed against the floor. “I do not yet think I can trust you with my name,” she said slowly. “But please, ser, don’t hurt me. You strike me as a man of honor, and the guards already did enough damage as they brought me here.”

Instantly, Auron was at her side, unable to mask his concern. “Damage? What sort of damage?” Anger boiled beneath his skin. “Did those beasts defile you?”

The girl gasped as his arms came around her. “N-no,” she stuttered, “They didn’t do… _that_ , thank goodness. But they were overly rough when they… _handled_ … me.” She shuddered, and Auron drew her to his breast, his urge to protect the fragile creature before him overpowering his prejudice.

“We are not usually so cruel,” he murmured to her soothingly. “I will find a way to release the us both from this nightmare, and shield you from such future injustice. The behavior of the guards is a disgrace to the very name of Yevon.”

The girl blushed fetchingly in his arms. “Your chivalry is appreciated, but truly… I was hoping you wouldn’t release me quite so soon.” A shy smile of invitation followed her words. “Despite knowing what you are, I find your concern for me... alluring. Such power and sensitivity, so carefully hidden under that suit of armor…” Her fingers trailed down the folds of Auron’s red overcoat, carefully drawing it aside. “What if I were to free it?”

Auron battled with himself for a moment, but the rising tide of desire swept away his reserve. “You would release a storm,” he told her lowly. “But have you the courage to ride it?”

“I would do more than just that,” the girl replied, pressing herself against him. “I would master it, and have it rage beneath me at my beck and call.”

“Such confidence,” Auron breathed. “We shall see if you are more than merely empty words.”

“If you wish to discover the truth, then fill me with your desire,” the girl demanded. Her nimble fingers made short work of his armours, divesting him of trousers with the full cleverness of the Al Bhed.

Auron gasped as they wrapped round the base of his hardened shaft, squeezing him in a tantalizing promise. His own desperate hands rucked up her skirt and tore at her smallclothes beneath, ripping them apart in his haste. “I shall have you suffer, tease,” he murmured as his fingers sought her entrance, anointing themselves with the nectar that already dripped freely down her thigh.

The girl shuddered and squeezed him again, gently drawing his aching member into her body. He plumbed her throbbing depths eagerly, losing himself in the passion of their writhing bodies. Distantly, he heard the girl - no, _woman_ , he corrected himself - cry out as her fingernails inscribed a pattern of desire against his skin. Her core pulsed against him, and Auron knew a moment of regret that they had not formally traded names; the mere thought the flower blooming beneath his ministrations gasping out in ecstasy brought him to completion.

“By Yevon,” he groaned, spilling his seed into her.

 

* * *

 

When Jecht opened his book the next morning, his brow furrowed in confusion. “That ain’t right,” he mumbled, squinting at the neat rows of cramped handwriting covering the page. As he read through Braska’s story, he let out a low whistle.

“Looks like somebody else is gettin’ a hobby too! But what’s with all this flowery shit? _Please don’t hurt me?_ Hah! I guess Braska ain’t never seen Blondie mad! And what the hell’s a _hardened shaft?_ The man’s got a cock, not a piece o’ machina down there.” Jecht grunted in disbelief. “That poor sob’s gonna need all the help I can give him.”

Shaking his head, Jecht closed the book and packed it away, already formulating new ideas for his next masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I couldn't leave part 2 hanging!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more or have suggestions - really, anything Jecht has seen in the MV universe can go here - let me know.


End file.
